


Clint "the cakeboss" Barton

by save_the_skyfall



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Funny, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Humor, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Slight swearing, Teasing, clint is a master chef, they pick on the readers cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:12:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/save_the_skyfall/pseuds/save_the_skyfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being forced to get a new mattress (due to a prank going wrong) Clint can't sleep. Try as he might but he just can't find anything to do that late at night, but that's when the inspiration to bake an unreasonably large cake sets in. Also, the team may or may not tease you constantly about your cooking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clint "the cakeboss" Barton

**Author's Note:**

> (y/f/f) your favorite food  
> (f/f) favorite food  
> (y/n) your name  
> (c/1) color one  
> (c/2) color two  
> (f/c) flower color

Due to a recent mishap involving a pot full of spaghetti sauce and a very poorly thought out prank, Clint had to get a new mattress. Needless to say he wasn't too pleased with giving up his old one but there was no way anyone would let him keep it.

"I am not going to let you keep it." Nat shook her head completely repulsed by the idea.

The archer crossed his arms in protest. "And why not?"

Natasha had been following him around all afternoon, hounding him to throw it out. "Because Clint, you will smell like a rotting pizzeria."

"Well Nat, there is this lovely thing called Febreeze. You should try it sometime." Clint retorted cocking his head to one side.

Natasha narrowed her eyes and scoffed, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Barton's eyes bulged, his cockiness melted away as he straighten his head. "I- uh, Nat. You know I didn't mean it like that."

The flaming red head arched her eyebrow, "Mhmm, sure. Well chicken little, I will have you know that the whole time I have been distracting you, a team of movers have been replacing your mattress."

Clint's mouth went agape and he raised up a finger, "How did you-"

"I don't lose focus." Natasha smirked as she strolled past him, "You should try it sometime."

Barton twisted his head around, mouth still agape with confusion, watching Nat walk away. "How does she do that?"

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When dinner time rolled around everyone piled out of their various locations in order to feast. Every member of the team made their way into the kitchen area where the aroma of (y/f/f) filled the air. You took a step back to look at the meal you prepared and nodded with satisfaction.

"(Y/n) what disaster did you prepare for us this time?" Thor leaned against the cabinets flashing you a shit-eating grin.

"Someone happened to get sick one time after it was my turn to cook, one time." You rolled your eyes and threw your arms in the air.

"There was also the time that you burnt cooking chocolate in the microwave causing the kitchen reek for three days." Steve shrugged.

"Or the time you put four table-spoons of cayenne pepper in the trail mix instead of four tea spoons. My mouth hurt for a week." Sam interjected.

"Let's not forget about when (y/n)-"

"Damn, okay, shit!" You backed up with your nose wrinkled in disgust.

Bruce came up behind you and nudged you with his elbow, "You know we're just messing with you right?"

Your expression was deadpan as you scanned the room, your gaze meeting each team member's face. "Yeah, right."

Once everyone took their regular place at the dinner table Clint picked up his plate and brought it to his eye level. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Hey, bird brain. Are you looking for worms in there or something?"

"Or something that could give me worms." Barton smirked back at you.

You clenched your jaw, beginning to get aggravated with all the teasing. "Just eat it, there is nothing wrong with it. I've made (f/f) a million times. It's fine." You snapped back in Clint's direction.

Everyone exchanged glances between each other and the food in front of them. You were about to take a bite but then you noticed everyone's expressions. "I'm done," you threw your fork down onto your plate and sulked off to your room.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Clint stood next to his bed with his arms crossed over his chest giving the new mattress judgmental looks. He unfolded his right arm to reach down and poke it. He let out a defeated sigh, "I guess there isn't really anything you can do about it Barton so just suck it up." He crawled into his new bed and stared at the ceiling before shutting his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

About ten minuets later he began a cycle of tossing and turning on the stiff mattress for what seemed to be hours. He darted his annoyed eyes to the alarm clock on his bedside table and the glowing green said that it was only 1:50 am. "Oh for fucks sake." Clint threw the covers off of him and sat angrily on the side of his bed.

"You'll smell like a rotting pizzeria." He moved his head back and forth mocking Natasha.

Barton began to walk aimlessly around his floor trying to find something to do but everything seemed unappealing. _Reading, no. Training, no. Watching TV, no. Plotting revenge for Nat, later._ He felt fidgety, and needed to move around and do something with his hands. "I guess carving a rocking chair is out of the question because everyone else is fast asleep." He huffed crossing his arms over his chest. "I wonder if there is anymore of that (y/f/f) (y/n) made for dinner?" Clint spoke quietly to himself.

He felt _slightly_ bad from earlier because whether he would admit it or not, he actually liked your cooking. It was one of the better meals to eat in the tower.

Clint made his way to the elevator and rode up to the main floor. He stepped off onto the cool grey tile and tiptoed into the kitchen. He turned on the light just over the island in the middle of the space.

"Lets see," he clicked his tongue as he rummaged around the fridge looking for a tupperware of the dinner. He sifted through sandwiches, pizza boxes, takeout boxes, salad dressings, "Ha, there you are." Clint grabbed a rather small container filled with the (secretly delicious) food you had made. He piled it on to a plate and popped it into the microwave.

When he went to get a fork he noticed a piece of paper with your name written across the top. "Hm, what do we have here," he smirked that devious grin of his.

_"(Y/n), We are all sorry for picking on you about your cooking. We actually really like the stuff you make. It was so good, everyone went back for seconds. We were just teasing in good fun, that's all. Please don't let last night hold a grudge between us. -Steve"_

"Well that's no fun. Here I was, thinking Cap finally got up the courage to confess his love."

The microwave dinged interrupting Clint's disappointment with a reminder of his appetite. He pulled out the steaming plate and stabbed at it with his fork, "Come to papa." While piling fork full after fork full of the food into his mouth he finally finished it off, "Aw." He sighed disappointed and put the dirty plate into the sink.

"Welp, I'm still bored." Barton began to meander around the kitchen looking through the drawers, cabinets, and cook books. After about twenty minuets of rummaging he saw a cook book with an extravagant cake on it. Barton snapped his fingers, "That's it."

Now everyone on the team knew that Clint watched the food network and cakeboss when he was bored but what they didn't know was that he was one hell of a baker. He ransacked the kitchen of all the ingredients he would need to make the masterpiece he was envisioning.

"Lets do this thing." He cracked his knuckles and took off his hearing aids to ensure that he could get into the zone.

Hours passed and he was working like a professional in their own element. Mixing the ingredients to get the perfect consistency, baking each layer for just the right amount of time. "Not too moist but not too hard, Clint." He reminded himself. He soon stacked the five large tiers and began to ice them (c/1). He then took a gallon bag and filled it with (c/2) and began to pipe intricate and elegant designs. Since he had gotten this far into his endeavor he thought, "Why not go further?" And he did. He casually whipped together his own sugar paste and fondant and began to craft (c/f).

It was around 4:02 am when had finally finished up and he took a step back and smiled with satisfaction at his handy work. "Now to wait for it to cool before I move it onto a different sheet," he yawned to himself as he hopped up onto a counter.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the days that no one had any missions the whole team slept in until about 7:30 or so. "Good morning, (y/n)." Sam greeted you with a smile.

"Mhm." You raised an eyebrow still vaguely annoyed about last night.

"Hold the elevator!" Nat called out, reaching the doors just in time to keep them from closing. Her, Steve, and Bucky all piled in with their usual morning chatter.

"I am really digging a nice cup of coffee," Steve stretched up in the air making sure to avoid hitting anyone.

"Just don't let (y/n) make it for you, you might get the plague." Bucky grinned and glanced back at you.

"Buck, leave (y/n) alone. We picked on them enough last night." Steve elbowed him in the side.

You were simmering with anger but said nothing, instead you decided to make your move when the elevator doors opened to the main floor. The second they opened wide enough you grabbed Bucky's arm and swiftly knocked his legs from under him causing him to crash to the floor. You side stepped out of the still opening doors and hightailed it into the kitchen.

"That's it you little-" he ran out after you and was just about to tackle you until he saw a strange sight.

"What the-" both Sam and Steve cocked their heads to the side.

There in all its glory was a huge five tier cake like one of the ones you see in magazines and curled up right beside it was its creator with icing smeared on his face and forearm.

"Bet you twenty bucks it tastes better than (y/n)'s cooking." Tony took a sip of his coffee.

"You know what, fuck you guys."


End file.
